Rough translation:The probability of me being aliveIs greater than one that I'm already dead.Right now I don't have strength left to proveThat I am here.And since I am hereWhy should I tell you that I'm not nothing.Even according to something, which somehow emerged,There's no way to prove it.That why the will has no interpretation.In the glory of mind's triumph, disappearedthe one which determined existence.What can really measureThe probability of my existence?Me...Don't speak of the feeling that I'm here no longerJust let it beJust let it be.